


Down The Rabbit Hole

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Those Who Kill (TV US)
Genre: Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infidelity, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It needs an out. She only knows of two ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down The Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day three of [MMOM](http://mmom.livejournal.com/). Set during _1x09 Untethered_.

Thomas knew he was losing it again. He felt fuzzy around the edges and it wasn't the whiskey. Catherine laughed as he knocked over the bottle. Maybe it was a little bit because of the whiskey.

"I think you've had enough," she said as she leaned over and righted the bottle, the damage done.

"You're giggling, I think _you've_ had enough," he corrected her sarcastically.

"It doesn't matter, nobody's having any now," Catherine shrugged, letting the comment slide, not calling him a mean drunk again. He didn't mean to be mean. Not wholly, not to her. He just saw too much sometimes.

"It's nice," he clarified.

"It was, gone now." She dipped her fingers in the spilled drink and brought her it to her lips.

"Your laugh, your smile. It's nice. You're too serious, you should let go... It's beautiful."

He reached for her across the table and she caught his hand, stopping him short.

"You're rambling," Catherine said, dismissing his words.

"No, you are. You're a beautiful tragedy. You don't tick anymore," he said, finally realizing what she reminded him of. Why he was attracted to her. She was a broken clock and he longed to take her apart and fix her.

"Come on, I'm supposed to be on the clock here. They won't like it if we're both smashed." She moved around the table and knelt by the couch, meaning to put him to bed.

"You just don't like people saying it," Thomas said, the warm glow of the room casting shadows over her face. "Because that's what he says to you."

"That's not fair," she snapped, her voice hot as fire and hard as stone. At least he knew she was listening now.

"It isn't," Thomas agreed, not talking about his own words. He reached for her again, his fingers pressing into the hip where she cut. "Let me fix you."

"I'm not looking to be fixed." She pulled his hand away from her but she kept hold of it. "You are."

She brought his hand up to her face and to his surprise, she kissed it.

"You think by fixing me, you'll make yourself feel better. You can't do that. You can help me but I can't help you. Not in the way you need."

Thomas frowned, losing track of the way he wanted her. He still wanted to touch her, to have her beneath his hands, to make sure she was still there, that she still saw him. Perhaps she could see him a little bit too well as well.

"In which way can you help me then?"

Catherine reached over his body with her other hand, reaching for his zipper. "It needs an out. I only know two ways..."

She brushed her fingers over his hip bone, saying the unspoken. He wouldn't cut. He wasn't the type. He was destructive but spiraling, he didn't care about control anymore. If he couldn't claw it back, what use did he have for it?

His mind threw out fuzzy logic. Words for love and betrayal but Catherine shook her head. "I'm not suggesting you do anything to me. Just for yourself."

The lines between them blurred for a moment as she seemingly made a liar out of herself. Or maybe he had lost the thread of what was real. She wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it in a detached way until he was hard, watching his face instead of what she was doing.

"Here," she said as she brought the hand of his she was holding to replace her own hand. "Wherever it is you're stopping yourself from going... let yourself go there."

She made to move her hand away but he caught it. He wanted to say _don't go_ , he wanted to admit he _didn't want to be alone_ , that he was _scared_ but the only words he could choke out were, "Come with me... down the rabbit hole."

Catherine nodded, doing her best to smile even though her hand was shaking over his own. He guessed she had the same words stuck in her throat. That's why she was here, why she'd volunteered to cover his protection, so they didn't have to be alone.

He let her move his hand, clouds rolling through his brain until his thoughts became fog lights in the whiteness. He tried to feel the desire that fueled their killer, the need but every light was Catherine, leading the way.

He felt her nails dig into the flesh of the back of his hand as his grip grew slack, the whiteness rolling over him and fading out into black. The blackness didn't recede and he heard her voice come over him like a tide washing in and out.

"I'm late, Thomas, I'm late for a very important date."

In the morning, he didn't know how much of it was real. Perhaps none of it. Perhaps all of it.

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


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